


the undone and the divine

by Apricot



Series: Bedroom Hymns [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-06 17:35:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13416213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apricot/pseuds/Apricot
Summary: He could still feel her presence. It was like a grain of sand between his teeth.





	the undone and the divine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fingalsanteater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingalsanteater/gifts).



> Happy Chocolate Box, fingalsanteater! ♥

The galaxy spread out like stars through the viewport. And the Supreme Leader was tired.

It had been months since Crait. The First Order was recovering from the shock of the Snoke’s death, and they were pursuing the last remnants of the Resistance and wiping them out. Mostly, they’d gone to ground, and chasing quarry that seemed to thrive in every rat hole in the galaxy was exhausting.

After yet another strategy meeting—Force, he missed when he could sweep away from those with his own missions that rarely overlapped with other First Order objectives—he’d finally gotten to return to his quarters. And left strict orders that no one was to disturb him.

His aides had been pushing for him to take over other quarters, ones that had been designed for Snoke and with him in mind. _They were always pushing with something._ He’d ignored them, so far. Ren had spent his life in a cell like this at one point or the other—anything else almost felt too large. Like it was just another costume he was trying on. And he was tired of feeling like a child playing at power.

_He had it now. He could do what he wanted._

And so long as they wiped out the rest of the Resistance, his power would be assured. If only his incompetent scouts and spies could tell him something other than the Resistance was working to gather the fragmented threads of its allies. He could have told them that himself. He’d tried reaching out in other ways. But it hadn’t worked. He’d heard her, seen her—glimpses of her—but they hadn’t spoken. She’d ignored him.

He could have told her that severing a connection like theirs was next to impossible—he had said such the last time she’d appeared when he was alone—but she had just set her jaw even more stubbornly. Just as she’d slammed the door in his face. While he’d been nearly kneeling at her feet. She’d denied him. Again. Like how she had in the throne room, when he’d nearly _begged her._

She would regret it. He would make her regret it, eventually. And then he could forgive himself for wanting her beside him, even now.

Something crawled underneath his skin. There had been an unsettling lack of stillness in him since the first time he’d brought her on the _Finalizer._ She’d looked into his mind, and seen his fear. And he’d felt her presence, that bone-deep recognition through the Force.

_There. Her. The girl._

That connection he’d tried to stamp out. The connection that Snoke had apparently _widened,_ intentionally weakening him further. His chest burned at the thought of his mentor and the vacant space in his head now. Where his master had once whispered, watched him, there was nothing. Just thoughts of the stupid girl instead. It was too close to the compassion that Snoke had once accused him of. That was a weakness. It, therefore, needed to be excised.

And if not excised, at least ignored.

He could meditate. That was one task that the Sith and the Jedi both seemed to prescribe to in times of mental distress—the Sith, to bring themselves closer to the darkness and for the Jedi, to stillness and peace.

Unfortunately, Ben had never been good at it. Neither had Kylo.

But it would have to do for now.

He took a breath and released it, folding his legs in underneath him like his uncle had once shown him, a long, long time ago.

For a moment, there was stillness. He focused on the anger that always burned in him, banked low now. Minor irritations, frustrations, the sudden pressure of his generals and the First Order. The way they looked at him sideways, when they thought he wouldn’t notice. And then the way that _she_ had looked at him. The memory of her expression when she’d shut the door.

 _She could have stayed._ The thought was bitter. They could have remade the First Order—remade _everything—_ if only she’d stayed. She’d wanted to. He’d have bet his life that in that moment of hesitation, she considered it. There had been a moment where something in her expression had responded to him, and he’d felt it, deep in his chest. Something that belonged only to him.

The thought was unexpectedly dark and possessive.

Heat licked its way up his veins. _Yes, his._ With her raw power _and_ his, no one would oppose them. No one would dare. And he would make sure she was never alone again.

The restlessness was back. The thought of her there with him, of him _possessing_ her, of her standing by his side and taking his hand…

If he wanted to make things worse, he was surely doing that. Heat flushed through his system and he tried to take his focus from that topic. When rage burned through his system, it was cleansing. Not like the slow, insidious creeping heat of lust. That distracted him utterly.

 _Attachment is a weakness._ Those had always been the lectures from his uncle, and Ben had been too embarrassed to ever discuss anything else with him or worse, his parents. And then after….everything… _Snoke_ had been in his head. Snoke’s eyes on, ready to seize upon any hint of weakness with his blistering contempt. The memory of that burning humiliation, that fact that his master would see _everything_ later, had been enough of a deterrent to not let it get much farther than a few uncomfortable minutes.

And if at night, his body betrayed him, there was always a punishingly cold shower for the weakness.

_Snoke is gone now._

He brushed away the thought like an insect, but it buzzed back into his head.

_He’s gone. It’s only you in your head now. You, and her._

Somehow, _you and her_ only fed the heat. The restlessness in him was turning to lust, to arousal, and he shifted again, trying and failing to focus. The tight fabric of his pants just made it worse.

And then there was that flicker of consciousness. And he heard, no, sensed…

Rey exhaled.

No. No, _now_ it was worse.

“Get out,” he said, as evenly as he could, keeping his eyes shut. It sounded cold, emotionless. Good. He wasn’t going to do this now.

“ _You_ get out.”

She actually responded this time, her voice sharp and hard, and he blinked.

She looked…exactly like she did on the ramp. Her eyes were wide, her mouth set in a hard line he had begun to see even in his sleep. Her hair was down, grazing her shoulders, and instead of softening her it just made her even more impossible.

“I thought you want this connection to disintegrate,” he said, keeping his voice cool.

She scowled. “I do.”

“Go away, then,” he said brusquely. The Force had a sense of humor. The last thing he wanted was for her to be here now. Not when he was trying to empty his thoughts. His body, however, was still reacting to….he didn’t even know. Her presence? He let his palms curl into fists.

“What are you doing?”

“Meditating—“ he snapped. “What are you doing? Planning more ill-conceived rescue attempts?”

Her eyes flashed, and Kylo had a second to regret antagonizing her, before she closed her eyes too. “No. I was trying to meditate too.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

She huffed. “I thought we were ignoring each other.”

“Fine.”

“ _Fine_.”

It was childish, and for a second he wanted to keep at it. He shut his eyes tighter instead.

Concentration was even worse with her in the room than just with her in his thoughts. He shifted, moving as slowly as he could so she didn’t notice _anything._

The sudden hiss of her breath, though, told him that he was unsuccessful.

He opened his eyes, heat flushing his ears, and caught her gaze just as it snapped back up to his face. For a moment, there was only blind panic.

“Meditating,” she said, and he could see the way her lips curled around the word. He wanted to snap at her, strike at her, but anything he did or said was just going to make him seem even more ridiculous. He settled for baring his teeth in a grin that was more of a grimace.

“ _Yes._ Emptying myself of thoughts. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept.”

“Thoughts.”

Was she going to repeat every single word he said? “ _Yes.”_

He’d looked away, and when he looked back at her, she was staring. Not at him. Well, at him, but not at his face. At the hard outline of his cock against the press of his pants, and the burning embarrassment swept down his ears to the back of his neck.

“And what are you thinking about?”

“Get _out,_ ” he gritted.

He wanted to evaporate on the spot. He tried to breathe, tried to ignore her, and when that failed he settled for glaring. The expression on her face...he couldn’t quite tell what it was. His own embarrassment was reflected there, to be sure, but there was something else he couldn't settle on.

Her eyes darted down again, and he hissed a breath. "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

_"You know what."_

She sat back, wrapping her arms around her knees as she drew them up. "Where are you right now?"

He gritted his teeth, and then decided it didn't really matter, anyway. "My quarters."

She bit her lip, and he avoided the gesture on reflex, exhaling slowly. _Calm yourself. Calm your damned mind._ He tipped his head back, swallowing hard.

“Just do it.”

 _That_ made his eyes snap back open, made the blush run to his cheeks. “ _What?”_

She was blushing too, despite the glare she was also throwing his way. The stain on her face transfixed him, embarrassment and anger and fascination. He knew those emotions. They were in his gaze every time he looked at her.

“Touch yourself.”

His gut lurched, and he hissed a slow breath. “ _No.”_

“Are you afraid?” she sneered.

“ _Go away—“_

“I can’t.” She stretched out her legs. “People _do_ it, you know.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw, the lines of his shoulders going rigid. Her eyes had fallen again, as if she couldn’t help it this time, and he resisted the urge to cover himself, shield the hard curve of his erection from her sight. His cock, unfortunately, _pulsed_ with the weight of her gaze and made his breath stutter.

She’d apparently found another avenue from which to torture him and was keen to explore it. He sat forward, letting his hair fall partially in his face—an old trick, from before he’d had a mask to conceal his expression. _Master yourself, and she’ll go._

“I can tell you want to.”

 _That much was obvious, wasn’t it?_ He nearly snapped. “Well, I won’t.”

“What do you think about?” She moved a few inches toward him, closer. Her curiosity bled through her disdain, just a little, and he resisted a shiver, closing his eyes tighter. This was some kind of trick. Some kind of game he hadn’t ever learned the rules of, and he wasn’t going to play along. Not here. Not with her _watching._ He was done giving in to weakness.

Meditation. Connection. The Dark Side. That was what he _needed_ to be focusing on. He could build his anger into a white-hot heat, something pristine and focused as a welding torch, instead of letting his emotions control him. Eventually, she would get bored and the connection would break.

_Focus._

He could still feel her presence, though. It was like a grain of sand between his teeth.

Kylo inhaled slowly, trying to imagine it as a cleansing breath, and let it out. She said nothing.

Finally, when he couldn’t take it anymore, he opened his eyes halfway, glancing at her.

The girl was looking away, staring off into the distance—at what, he wasn’t sure.

“Do you think about what would have happened,” she asked, her voice softer. “If I’d stayed?”

That, he hadn’t been expecting. The idea of her thoughts running so parallel to his, though…

“Is that what it is?” She traced her fingertips along her knee, a gesture that was in no way erotic or flirtatious and yet managed to catch and hold his attention utterly. “What you’re thinking about?”

 _She’s distracting you again._ He drew his lip tightly between his teeth and bit down. Rey leaned in, gaze back on him now. That curious look on her face again, and…something else.

“Tell me.”

He exhaled.

“What’s to explain?” Despite his careful breathing and attempt at concentration, the sensation of arousal hadn’t abated. Maybe if he shocked her, she’d go and leave him in _peace._ “It’s just…it’s mindless. A fuck.”

“Just that?”

He looked up again. She was flushed, but the way she was looking at him—no, _appraising_ him—

“Yes. Just that.”

“How does it start?”

He blinked.

“When we were together? On Snoke’s ship?”

 _Why do you think you’re involved—_ he wanted to snarl, but the words that came out were—“ _My_ ship—“

“No one’s ship, actually, considering it’s space dust now.”

He glared at her.

“Or maybe it just starts here?” she said evenly, and tapped the mat.

From the way she did it, it almost looked like she was beckoning him to come closer. His leg muscles tensed before he forced them to release again. “This isn’t going to work.”

“What isn’t?”

“I’m not going to—you want us to touch again.” The accusation spilled out. That was it. The last time, they’d both seen things, through the Force connection. How did he know that she wouldn’t use whatever information she gleaned against him?

“As if I’d willingly touch you,” she said, and this time her voice was ice, as winter-chilled as Hoth. His flush deepened to crimson.

“Yes, we fuck,” he hissed, trying to match her tone and failing. His anger, once again, bled all through it, spilling over the words. “We fuck right there. On the mat.”

(It honestly didn’t matter _where._ His thoughts betrayed him everywhere nowadays, in his private quarters, the receiving room, during _meetings._ Rey had the ability, it seemed, to haunt him in places she’d never even been.)

“How does it start?”

His breath caught again, and Kylo faltered. “What?”

She was still so damned cool, so calm, that he nearly missed the way her gaze flicked from his down to his mouth and then back up again. It made his throat feel like it was closing up, confused and conflicted like he had in the lift the first time he’d caught her doing it. At the time, there had been other things to consider and he’d dismissed it. Now it was harder.

“How is it supposed to start?”

She didn’t laugh, but he thought he could hear the smile in her voice. “It’s your fantasy.”

The word, _fantasy_ , sounded like weakness again, had him tensing.

“Ben.”

Fine. _Fine._

“You,” he grated out. “You… _we…_ you kiss me.”

This time, she was _definitely_ mocking him. She sounded amused, warm. “That’s sweet.”

Anger warred with heat now. “And I touch you.”

“Where?”

His fingers curled in on themselves from where they rested against his knees, the leather creaking in his palms. “Your breasts.”

She said nothing to that, and so he opened his eyes.

Rey was breathing, slowly, and his gaze dropped this time almost purposefully to her chest—to her _breasts_ , he’d said, where he wanted to touch her—and he did, but that was only part of it. She was still wearing those bindings, that ridiculous combination of tight and loose fabrics that covered her almost completely. He’d have to strip layers off her _and_ his gloves before he could really feel her.

“How do I feel?” her voice was gentler, a little throatier, less amused than before. He still flinched, and his eyes snapped shut again.

“Soft.” He blew out a frustrated breath. She was watching him, and he was exposed, more exposed than he liked. “You fit into my hands.”

“Do I like you touching me?”

“ _Yes.”_

The word was a hiss. Her spine would arch as she fit herself into his palms. Soft, so soft, and demanding—wanting his hands on her. He could imagine her writhing against him, sliding her fingers into his hair. Dragging his head down so he could kiss her breasts, and he’d go gladly—

His cock _pulsed_ with that thread of the fantasy, and Rey’s breath—somewhere near his ear now, and he did _not_ open his eyes—hitched.

“What were you just thinking about?”

He made his palms uncurl, breathing in deep. “Kissing your breasts,” he mumbled. “You begging me to.”

“I bet I beg you a lot in this dream.”

She sounded amused again. He leaned back to throw her a hateful glare—she’d gotten closer, at some point. “You do.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Then _please,_ ” she said, and something hot dropped into him, burning its way down through his lungs into his stomach, his breath drying in his throat. “ _Touch yourself.”_

Force, he _hated_ her. He hated the way her voice sounded like that, lower and stronger than he’d imagined. It was going to haunt him later when he wouldn’t be able to get it exactly right in his head.

Hands shaking a little, he stripped off his gloves—not wanting to fumble with the zipper of his pants, not in front of her. His cock was a burning brand inside his pants, and when he drew it free he could _feel_ her gaze there.

His thumb edged over the slit, his breath hissing softly as he traced the bead of precum over the head and then down, letting his legs unfold as he leaned back a little. He didn’t—couldn’t—look over at her, but she was watching him and he had to swallow hard before he could start, his hand finding a slow, familiar rhythm.

“Tell me what happens next,” Rey said, a tad breathlessly.

“I get the rest of your clothes off—“

“Do I touch you?”

Kylo clenched his jaw. “Of course.”

“Where?”

His pulse was fast and hard in his ears now. “Your arms around my neck.”

She exhaled. “I don’t touch you…”

She trailed off, and he looked at her. Her eyes were caught on the motion of his hand, and this time pure heat eclipsed any embarrassment. He swore softly, arching a little into the stroke. “I—“

“I think I’d want to,” she said. “In your fantasy.” Her face was flushed brilliantly pink, eyes a little wild, and it was hard not coming right _then._ She looked like she had in the forest on Starkiller Base, when she’d knocked him down in the snow, when he’d half-imagined her plunging that blade down into his chest before a rend in the earth had jerked them apart. He was momentarily stunned, watching her.

His other hand reached out, regardless of the danger, regardless of what he might _see,_ to pull her to him. But she shied away, shaking her head.

“No.”

He gritted his teeth, and then did it again, but her eyes flashed.

“I said _no.”_

Fine. _Fine._

“I get the rest of your clothes off,” he continued, because he was arching into his hand now, angry with the denial and with her, always with her. And if they were going to do this— _if he was doing this—_ he would finish it out. “And I touch you.”

“Where? My breasts?”

“Between your legs.”

She liked that. He could tell, because her eyes flashed with something bright and hot, like a meteorite burning up in atmosphere.

“I touch you,” he repeated, shuddering. “And you’re wet for me. You’re _soaked._ ”

He’d fuck her with his fingers until she was shuddering, until she was _begging_ him for it. That Kylo—the Kylo in his fantasy—was in utter control, could have her where he wanted her—beneath him, writhing under his hands. He bent his head, biting down harder on his lower lip and took solace in the momentary sensation of pain as his hips bucked into his fist once.

“Slower,” she said. Her voice was raw. “Go slower.”

“ _Rey.”_ He shuddered, barely registering her words, but his body reacted to them. His other hand slid to cup his balls, the muscles of his abdomen momentarily tight with the tension of keeping himself upright. She rewarded him by leaning in again. He could _feel_ her breath on his skin, he thought, and felt dazed with it.

“And then?”

“And then I get your legs on my shoulders,” he snapped, suddenly angry with her—angry at _this,_ at the way he had forced himself to move slower with her bidding, the way he wanted to _touch_ her. His hand was steadier, so he tightened the grip, making it almost hurt as he caught his breath.

“Like that?” She sounded a little surprised. Like she’d been expecting something else.

“ _I want you on your back_ ,” he confessed. He’d already given her nearly everything, what did it matter if he gave her this? “ _I want to watch you when I’m fucking you.”_

“How do I look?”

He exhaled, shuddering. “Perfect.”

She shifted suddenly, pressing her thighs together and then sitting down on her heels, and suddenly he _knew._ He knew that she was hot, she was aching, her pulse was fluttering and her inner muscles strung up tight despite herself. For _him._

“ _Rey.”_ The plea in his voice was impossible to deny.

“No.”

Force, he hated her. He _wanted_ her.

“ _More,”_ she breathed, leaning into him, not touching him. He could go crazy—maybe he was crazy—with the sound of her voice in his ear like this. “Go faster now.”

His free hand slid to his thigh, his fingers biting against the muscle there, but the fabric of his pants was too thick to feel the purchase. He leaned further back instead, closing his eyes as he fought not to lose himself as he upped the rhythm. Not just yet.

In his head, her hands were everywhere on him. Gripping his ass, nails raking down his back, spurring him on. She would fuck like she fought, he just knew it. Imagined her bearing down on him and the wet heat of her mouth on his skin.

Her breath was in his ear now, the shiver of it on his skin impossible to contain. Her fingernails were curling into her own thighs. “ _Just like that.”_

His lungs burned, barely able to take in the full breath. “ _I want—“_

“ _I know.”_ The words were close, too close to his ear, and she pressed her lips just below his ear, where his throat was exposed. “ _But instead you’re going to come for me.”_

The groan trapped in his throat nearly slipped free at those words, and instead he managed her name in a low curse. Every muscle seized up, from the tendons in his arms to his thighs, the small of his back, his body arching in a primitive line as he came with a shudder, hot and sticky and an uncontrollable _mess._

It took him a second to come down, still shuddering as he finally leaned forward, bracing himself on the mat before he reached for her. Fuck her rules and her denials—

But she was already gone.


End file.
